


Touch of Grief

by miera



Series: Worthless [8]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-2.22 "Cogenitor" conversation between Malcolm and Trip. (05/04/2003)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch of Grief

Malcolm Reed was worried.

As the chief tactical officer, it was a requirement of his job. But at the moment he was not concerned with the security of the ship, or the crew. There were no external or internal threats to be overcome. Everything in his department was functioning properly.

This worry was personal.

Ever since the unpleasant ending of the first contact with the Vissians, Trip had been in hiding. His foolish if well-intentioned interference had nearly cost them their relations with the highly advanced species. The entire ship was buzzing with the fact that Archer had chewed Trip out and the two old friends were barely speaking to each other.

In the past two days, Malcolm had not seen Trip for more than about 3 minutes total. Usually the engineer stopped by the Bridge at least once a day when he wasn't working on any major repairs. But Trip had remained in Engineering. He also hadn't eaten with the Captain at all in that time.

Not that Malcolm would be so obsessive as to keep track of such things.

Sitting in the Mess Hall, Malcolm frowned at the door, trying to will it to open and for Trip to enter. He suspected that not only was Trip not eating with the Captain, he was possibly not eating period. Malcolm had waited through the usual dinner rush, ostensibly absorbed in his reading, but Trip never appeared. Now there were only a handful of people left in the Mess hall.

Malcolm was trying to figure out what to do next when Hoshi entered, dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. She caught his eye and something in her look made Malcolm tense. She grabbed something to drink and sat down at the table with him. Without preamble, Hoshi asked, "Have you seen him?"

There was no point in feigning ignorance. Malcolm shook his head. "He hasn't been in here or the Captain's Mess since I came in."

"He wasn't in the gym. And Travis went to Engineering at the end of Alpha shift and he wasn't there either." Hoshi's eyes met his and Malcolm saw his own concern mirrored in her expression.

He could comm. the Bridge and ask them to locate Trip, but it would only draw attention to the situation. If Trip wasn't in Engineering, the gym or the Mess, the next most likely place was his quarters. Malcolm could see that Hoshi had come to the same conclusion.

"I'll go," he said, getting up.

"Do you think I-?"

"No," he interrupted, a bit more harshly than he intended. "Whatever state he's in, I doubt the appearance of people ganging up on him will help," he explained apologetically.

Hoshi looked pained, but she sat back in her chair. "You'll tell him?" she asked, quietly. "Tell him I'm worried too? And Travis?"

Malcolm squeezed her shoulder and nodded. Before he could second guess himself, he left the Mess and headed for Trip's quarters. The rational part of his mind told him that he was being nosy, that if Trip wanted to talk he would come find Malcolm, and that Malcolm should respect the other man's privacy.

The part of his mind that was frantic with worry told the rational part to bugger off.

He arrived at Trip's quarters and pushed the chime. No response. He pushed it again. Instead of permission to enter, Trip's voice muttered crossly, "Who is it?"

"Trip, it's me. Open the door."

"I'm not really in the mood for company right now, Malcolm," the disembodied voice answered.

"Either you open the door voluntarily or I'll override the lock," Malcolm growled. A moment later the door slid open.

Malcolm gasped when he saw Trip's face, thrown into sharp relief by the harsh light in the corridor. The chief engineer looked horrible. His eyes were red, there were dark circles under them and he hadn't shaved in at least a couple days. Worse than his face was his posture. He was stooped over, looking like he'd been beaten so bad he couldn't hold himself up. Like he had no hope left for anything. The sight of his friend so wretched hit Malcolm like a physical blow. "My God, Trip, what-?"

Trip glared. "I don't want to talk about it. Just leave me alone." The door began to close.

"No." Malcolm jumped forward, barely missing getting squished. There was no way he was leaving Trip in this state without finding out what had happened. Trip looked at him in annoyance but just turned away without speaking.

Malcolm looked around the room as his eyes adjusted to the semi- darkness. Trip was not a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, but there was an unsettling amount of debris in the room now. As if the occupant wasn't merely busy, but no longer cared about where anything ended up. Clothes were on the floor, and the remnants of at least two meals, neither completely eaten, were on the desk. That explained why Trip had not been seen in the Mess Hall.

The silence began to stretch uncomfortably. Sensing that a confrontation would not help, Malcolm deliberately softened his voice. "Trip?" He saw the engineer flinch and clench his fists.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Trip snapped over his shoulder.

Malcolm remained calm, refusing to allow Trip to goad him into a fight. "If this situation were reversed, would you leave me alone?" They both knew the answer to that question.

Trip closed his eyes and sat down on the bed, as if the strength to stand upright was suddenly beyond him. His voice was barely above a whisper. "She's dead."

"What?" Malcolm gasped, stunned.

"She killed herself," Trip's voice was ragged as he started to cry. "It's my fault."

Trip buried his face in his hands and his whole body shook. Malcolm stood there, unsure what to do. Offering comfort and support to other people had never been something he was good at. He was terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing. But to witness Trip so miserable and do nothing was intolerable.

Malcolm sat down on the bed next to Trip and hesitantly drew the other man closer. When Trip didn't resist, Malcolm pulled the blonde head against his shoulder, and began to rub his hand gently over Trip's back. Malcolm could think of nothing to say, so he just kept stroking up and down. Trip's shaking began to subside, but he remained leaning against Malcolm's shoulder.

"I never meant this to happen," Trip whispered, his hand absently clutching at the waist of Malcolm's uniform.

"Shh, I know that. Your intentions were good."

Trip sniffled. "Too bad my actions didn't live up to 'em."

"You just didn't think."

"That's what the Cap'n said." Trip kept his eyes shut, but his body shivered noticeably. "I'll be more careful in the future. Not that that'll help her..."

Malcolm wrapped his arm around Trip's shoulders. "You need to think more carefully before you act, perhaps. But you also need to remember that you were trying to help someone you felt was being treated unfairly. That's an admirable thing."

He felt Trip's body stiffen in denial. "She's dead because of me," Trip tried to extract himself from Malcolm's embrace.

Some instinct caused Malcolm to hang on tight. He feared if he let Trip go, he might never get him back. "She's dead for a combination of reasons, starting with her species' peculiar prejudices. You cannot take the responsibility for this entirely on yourself," he stated firmly, skirting the issue of Trip's complicity in what had happened.

Trip stopped trying to pull away. Malcolm resumed running his hand over Trip's back. He felt and heard the other man sigh heavily.

"I just wish..." Trip began, and then stopped, as if he didn't even know to wish for.

"We all make mistakes, Trip," Malcolm began. He faltered, not knowing how to assuage Trip's guilt. If he himself had been in this situation, he doubted any power in the universe could convince him he was any better than a murderer. He didn't know how to convince Trip. He decided to avoid the subject. "But hiding away and torturing yourself won't change what happened."

A choked sob broke from the other man. "I can't stand it, Mal. Going out there, having people looking at me everywhere I go, knowing what I did."

His arm tightened again. "No one's thinking about what you did. They're worried about you."

"Jon's not," Trip mumbled. The pain in his voice was almost visible. Malcolm felt a flash of jealousy at the familiar use of the Captain's name, followed by a surge of anger towards their superior for whatever he had said to Trip to cause the man to torment himself in this manner.

"Hoshi and Travis are," Malcolm countered. "I am." Instead of pulling away, Trip turned his head, so that his face was pressed against Malcolm's shoulder, the top of his head just under Malcolm's chin. Trip's hand tightened more on the uniform he was clutching like a lifeline.

They sat that way for a few minutes, Trip sniffling occasionally.

"I'm not telling you to forget about this," Malcolm said at last, speaking very low and gentle. "I know that's not possible. And it's going to keep hurting." He flinched, wishing with all his might that there was some way for him to remove the pain from his friend and take it on himself. "But you can't go on like this, hiding away, making yourself suffer. It's only hurting you and everyone else more." Malcolm wondered how on earth he had suddenly found the right things to say.

Trip pulled away and Malcolm felt a tiny bit of regret at the loss. But the blue eyes gazing at him in the low light looked mercifully clearer.

"I guess not. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry anyone." Trip wiped absently at his face.

"It's alright. Just don't do it again. Talk to me, or Hoshi, or Phlox." He avoided mentioning the Captain's name, but Trip sighed, evidently thinking of his best friend's anger. "It will get better."

Trip shook his head doubtfully. "He was pretty angry with me. I destroyed a first contact mission and—" he choked and couldn't continue.

"Eventually he'll realize that you were only trying to do what you thought was right."

Trip looked at him, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You think?"

"I know."

For the first time, the hint of a smile appeared on Trip's face. "And how do you know that?"

"Because, Trip, the only thing about you bigger than your mouth is your heart," Malcolm told him. Malcolm knew this firsthand. Only someone who was as kindhearted and stubborn as Trip Tucker would ever attempt to crack open the shell that existed around Malcolm Reed.

Trip actually chuckled at that and Malcolm knew that he could stop worrying, for now. He stood up. "I'd advise you to take a shower and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Mal?" Malcolm stopped and looked back. Trip was looking at him intently. "Thanks."

He nodded. "You're welcome."


End file.
